


Steve Rogers' Favorite Colors

by philosophyofhedonism



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Smut, Steve just really loves Bucky a lot and it's beautiful, but just post serum briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philosophyofhedonism/pseuds/philosophyofhedonism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled "The Red, White, and Blue of Bucky Barnes"</p><p>This was written as a happy birthday fic bc Steve needed something purely happy and fluffy in his life and I did my best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve Rogers' Favorite Colors

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for Steve. Shh I didn't write a birthday present for a fictional character what r u talking about? 
> 
> Anyway, I started thinking about the 4th of July and Sebastian Stan's face that I hate lots and lots and then I word vomited this. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely [mymindblindly](http://mymindblindly.tumblr.com/) for betaing for me and forcing me to stick to one tense. Because this was all over the fucking place lemme tell you what. Anyway, check me out on [tumblr](http://hellasara.tumblr.com). I promise I'll make it good for you (as long as you want to be spammed with Sebastian Stan's face).

Bucky’s lips are beautiful and perfect in everything they do. Wrapped around a cigarette or a beer bottle or Steve’s cock, they’re red and full and beautiful. 

Bucky knows this, of course, so whenever they’re in public, out on double dates or hell, even in church, Bucky bites his lips and sends Steve these heated looks that make Steve’s stomach flip and his cock twitch. 

Steve thinks that maybe he should feel guilty, that he and Bucky should stop what they’re doing, but damnit it feels so good and Steve needs Bucky the same way his poor asthmatic lungs need air, aching every moment because he can never get enough. 

Bucky drags his tongue over his lip slowly, a private show just for Steve. Steve can’t help it anymore and in the privacy of their kitchen he launches himself at Bucky, perching on his lap to trace the same path Bucky’s tongue had just taken over his lips. When Steve finally pulls away, sucking in deep breaths of air, Bucky’s lips are swollen and obscenely red. They hang open slightly as Bucky pants. 

“Steve,” Bucky whines and that’s it. Their bodies crash back together and Steve rubs his cock against Bucky as it gets harder with every pass of his tongue and nip of his teeth. Steve whines and whimpers and moans and makes all sorts of embarrassing noises against Bucky’s sinfully red lips. 

Bucky unfastens Steve’s pants hastily and yanks his cock out, stroking him with rough, unforgiving pulls. Steve cries out and buries his face in Bucky’s neck, his hips pushing up into Bucky’s hand, then stuttering and stilling when he spills over Bucky’s fist. 

Bucky groans low in the back of his throat when Steve reached a hand down his pants and delicately drew him out. Steve strokes him slowly, pausing to gather the precome beading at the tip of his cock and spreading it down Bucky’s length to ease the glide of his fingers. Bucky makes these soft gasping sounds as Steve kisses him softly and brings Bucky closer and closer to the edge. When he comes he’s almost completely silent, and his obscenely red lips go slack as his head tips back. Steve kisses his lips softly, gently. 

***

It isn’t uncommon for Steve and Bucky to share clothes. It was more common when they were younger and Steve wasn’t quite so much smaller, but even now there are some shirts that fit well enough on both of them. 

This shirt is one of them, and it is Steve’s favorite. Its Steve’s favorite because its Bucky’s favorite, and Bucky wears it enough that it permanently smells like him. Sometimes if Bucky has gone out or if Steve is sick in bed all day he pulls on that shirt and smells the sleeve until he falls asleep and dreams of Bucky. The shirt had started out starch white that faded to a soft cream with every layer of sweat and grime that was added. They still bleach it every wash, but it stubbornly refuses to stay white.

“Are you wearing my shirt, punk?” Bucky jokes as he falls down on Steve’s bed, effectively waking him up. 

“’S my shirt too, Bucky,” Steve slurs, his voice sleep-heavy. 

“Doesn’t even fit you right,” Bucky mutters, pushing off his boots uncoordinatedly. 

“Fits me just fine,” Steve counters, sitting up closer to Bucky. “How was your date?” Steve asks, and he can’t keep a note of bitterness out of his voice. 

“C’mon Stevie,” Bucky protests, laying his head in Steve’s lap. “Y’ know you’re my best guy.” 

Steve grins and threads his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Yeah, I know.” He leans down and presses his lips to Bucky’s until Bucky is twisting upwards and balling his fists in Steve’s shirt. His shirt. Their shirt. 

Bucky growls against Steve’s mouth and Steve gasps. Bucky pushes up against him until he has Steve on his back, pliant enough to let Bucky tenderly remove his clothes and then gently prepare him until he’s writhing beneath him. 

“Ready, Steve?” Bucky asks and Steve can barely open his eyes to glare at him and he knows there’s no heat in the look. Then Bucky is pushing into him and Steve moans, wordless and far too loud in their tiny apartment with paper thin walls and suspicious neighbors. But Bucky keeps fucking him, so Steve turns his head to the side to bite at something, _anything_ , to occupy his mouth. Bucky helpfully offers his thumb and Steve sucks hard on it, laving his tongue over the ridges of his fingerprint and scraping his teeth against the knuckle. Bucky keeps fucking him, telling him how good he’s being and how nice and quiet he is and how fucking tight and hot and _good_ he feels around Bucky’s cock. 

Steve’s eyes fly open wide as he comes. In the split second before, his gaze latches onto Bucky’s and Steve’s mouth goes slack around Bucky’s thumb that is still pressing against his tongue. 

“Fuck Stevie,” Bucky mutters and then with a few more thrusts comes buried deep in Steve. 

Bucky pulls out and arranges himself on his side pressed up against Steve who is still on his back, trying to catch his breath. Bucky’s fingers trace idly through the mess on Steve’s stomach, drawing loops and circles until Steve shoves Bucky’s hands away and stands to clean himself off. 

“Hey bring me a towel!” Bucky shouts after him. His shirt, _their shirt_ , hits him in the face. 

***

There is nothing at all on God’s green earth that holds a candle to the way Bucky’s eyes light up when he’s happy. His eyes are usually a soft blue-gray color, but when he laughs, especially in the sunlight, they turn aquamarine. Bucky had laughed at him the first time Steve complemented his eyes, but Steve pouted and reminded Bucky that he was an artist, and therefore allowed to wax poetic about the exact shade of Bucky’s eyes. Bucky rolled his eyes, but there wasn’t any malice in it. The truth was, Bucky liked being complimented almost as much as Steve liked complimenting him. Whenever they’re alone Steve pulls Bucky in close and leans their foreheads together and Steve tells Bucky how perfect he is, how gorgeous he is. 

There aren’t all that many colors that Steve can see quite right, so he’s glad he can see the blue of Bucky’s eyes. At least he thinks he can see it right. Bucky always waves him off and says his eyes aren’t as great as Steve says, but Bucky never was one to brag about himself, not really. He puffs up and acts macho around girls, but he is smaller and more subdued around Steve. He doesn’t have to put on a show for Steve, 

Steve is already head over heels for him. 

***

Steve still loves Bucky, even if his lips are thinner now from years spent not smiling or laughing. Even though the blue of his eyes is less aquamarine and more icy. Bucky has come back to him, and Steve can kiss his lips until they were swollen and red, and they still share shirts, even if now they hung a little loose on Bucky, and sometimes when Bucky laughs and the sun is shining, Steve can see his eyes sparkle like they used to. 

Bucky is much more simple. His favorite colors are the red white and blue of Steve’s uniform crumpled at the foot of his bed.


End file.
